Words for Winchesters
by blue-jean-serenades
Summary: E/O Drabble Challenge. A series of Winchester drabbles based around weekly one-word prompts.
1. Long

**So, I'm taking up the E/O Drabble Challenge. From now on, all my (hopefully weekly) drabbles will be here. 1 word challenges, 100 word pieces - and believe me, anyone who hasn't written a drabble has _no idea_ how hard it is to get something that was originally at around 200 words down to 100. (I know I didn't.) This week's challenge word was "long," and it is EXACTLY 100 words, just like the rules say.**

**Hope you all enjoy.**

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><p>It's been a long time since he's seen his brother smile.<p>

Last night he dreamed about the old days, when Dean laughed and teased (_bitch, jerk_) and life was normal—maybe not great, but normal. But Dean doesn't smile much anymore. His face is marked with lines of pain and anger and _screw God, we'll fight this damn war alone._

The familiar strains of AC/DC echo from the speakers. A ghost of something-that-was flits across Dean's face.

And Sam thinks that maybe they don't have a lot—but then again, maybe it's the simple things that count the most.


	2. Floor

**Prompt: Floor. Set in early S6, while Sam was still RoboSam.**

The floor of the Impala is a mess.

Old newspaper clippings, empty bottles, a few used…oh no, he is _not_ going there…and a busted lighter. These things form a thick layer of memory buildup in the backseat, until Dean's not sure what's old and what's new.

He picks up a photo of fourteen-year-old Sam, glaring at the camera, and feels a rush of…_something_. Nostalgia, maybe. Snorts, because he never thought he would actually miss sullen, adolescent Sam.

"What's that?"

Dean tucks it away in his jacket. "Nothing," he lies.

He keeps the photo there, a blazing reminder, in his pocket.


	3. Fall

**Sorry I've been MIA. I was in Paris and London for spring break. Prompt word: Fall.**

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><p>He knew he shouldn't have broken the vase. It had been Mom's, and that made it sacred. But he had wanted to play soccer, and it was raining. Sam hid in a closet and cried until Dean found him, and then explained through sniffles and tears.<p>

When Dad came home three hours later, he saw the empty table and stilled. "I'm sorry," said Dean. "I was practicing, and I didn't realize..."

Sam heard the shouting long after he was ordered to bed. His father barely spoke to his brother for another month.

Dean did not complain, and never told.


	4. Ditch

**Prompt: Ditch.**

"Sam?" His voice echoes through the darkness, thin and tight and maybe just a little bit desperate. Ever since Cold Oak, Dean cannot shake the suffocating panic that rises in his chest every time he looks to his left and Sam isn't there.

_Stupid ghost._

"Dean." His brother's voice is low, gasping, but _alive_. "Think I broke my wrist. Hurts like hell."

He tries to cover his strangled noise of relief with a cough. "Yeah, well… Don't be a wuss."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Dean thinks it doesn't really matter that his shoulder is dislocated. Sam is alive. He can breathe again.


	5. Fall, 2

_**Prompt: Fall.**_ **Set during the four months Dean was in Hell, probably just after Sam realized that he couldn't get Dean back.  
>[Edit: I just realized that I've actually written a drabble for this prompt word before… but I like this one, so I'm posting it anyway.]<br>**

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><p>Sometimes Sam forgets what it's like to be alone.<p>

It's the sudden chill after you take your jacket off, the itch of eyes on your back. It's looking up because there's this thing and you know he'll laugh and then you remember that he's gone and he's not coming back, not ever.

Sam hates it.

He fingers the gun against his head, calculating his chances of dying instantly. Too low—better in the mouth. More reliable.

The metal is hard and cold against his teeth. He feels like he's choking.

Sam puts it down and walks out of the room.


	6. Nap

**Sorry for not posting anything in a while, guys – my inspiration has just disappeared. Maybe it'll come back. In other news, I think I've found me a new fandom or two, which I may or may not be writing for.**

**Prompt: Nap. Set in season one, because I am still all in a mess over the S6 finale and whatnot.**

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><p>Dean is sleeping.<p>

Sam hasn't seen him sleep in a long time. His brother's face is smooth, his weary-too-tired eyes closed, and Sam is reminded of a little kid.

Dean stirs. "We leavin'—?" he starts to ask.

Sam shushes him. "No, we're not leaving yet."

Dean half-nods, mumbling something indecipherable. There's a long pause.

"You leavin' yet?"

Sam stiffens. He remembers Jess and Stanford and blood, wendigos and spirits and terror cold on his spine.

He looks at his brother. Dean definitely looks like a kid when he's sleeping.

"No," Sam says, after a while. "I'm not leaving yet."


End file.
